Fly Me to the Moon
by Liliththestormgoddess
Summary: Getting trapped in a museum with no means of contact or defence: bad. Getting locked up in the Air exhibit among rusted old planes: bad…unless, of course, you’ve got Murdock. Revamped!


Fly Me to the Moon

by Liliththestormgoddess

**Summary: Getting trapped in a museum with no means of contact or defence: bad. Getting locked up in the Air exhibit among rusted old planes: bad…unless, of course, you've got Murdock.**

**[Revamped and re-constructed! I have managed to ground it in the realms of reality without altering the story line. Enjoy! ;)]**

The last 'clang' of the lock sliding into place echoed around the large room. BA glared resolutely at the locked door. He hated the fact that they were trapped…once again. And without any guns either. It also made matters worse that they were trapped in the Air exhibit of a small city's museum, in the middle of the night. The museum was supposed to be closed, and wouldn't open until the morning. By which the workers would have found them and contacted the authorities, and the team would be in jail.

Hannibal Smith crossed his arms, studying the doors. He wasn't going to let this minor set back stop them. They'd been called in to help stop thieves from stealing one of the exhibits – and made it there in time to stop them, and then piss the bad guys off. By some draw of bad luck, they'd been defeated. Temporarily defeated.

"I hope you have a plan, Colonel," Face quipped from beside him, studying the door too. The Colonel was the major plan maker, and the whole team depended on him to devise the plan, while everyone worked together to execute it.

"Uh, yeah," Hannibal said without much conviction. "Workin' on it." He turned about the room to look at what they got.

"Oh, Lord, forsake me!" cried Murdock, his eyes suddenly going wide with excitement. "Shoot me now, I think I'm in heaven." He ran towards the few dozens of old aircrafts that littered the extra large open space. Running a hand along a particularly old and large plane, he began murmuring to it.

BA shook his head, growling at the display. "Crazy fool," he muttered and stalked off to another set of doors, testing to see if they would open.

"Colonel!" called Murdock suddenly, glancing up from the plane. "Can we take Bessie home? Please?"

Hannibal suddenly stopped chewing on his cigar. "Can we take _who_ home?"

Murdock ran his hands along the left wing lovingly. "Bessie. This here is Bessie."

"You named the plane, Murdock?" asked Face sceptically. That would be just Murdock, to name an inanimate object.

"No no, of course not Faceman." Murdock shook his head. "No, she told me her name was Bessie." He grinned wider.

"Oh. Of course."

"You crazy fool," exclaimed BA, unable to take much of Murdock's nonsense. "Planes don't talk."

"Well not to _you_," he shot back.

When BA made a move to go over and hit the Captain, Hannibal called "Men!" and he stopped in his tracks. "Now, we have to work together to find a way out. Fighting isn't going to help." He let out a puff from his cigar.

"But Colonel," Murdock protested, now in the pilot's seat of the cockpit. "Can we take Bessie home? She doesn't like to be here. She says she wants to go home with me." He made a pout to prove his point.

"Look, Murdock," Face said gently, from the side of the plane. "I'm sure you really want to take the plane home, but its not talking to you. Besides, where would you put it? It's massive, if you haven't noticed. Plus, it's a piece of history." Face bent to examine the plaque that was erected next to the plane. "WACO CG-4A. A glider plane used in WW2." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of it. It was made of wood and canvas, and looking pretty rundown and battered. Nothing he would like to fly in.

Before Murdock could protest, Hannibal spoke up, a plan forming in his mind. "Wait a minute Face – Murdock, do you think you can fly this plane?"

Snapping straight to attention as if offended, Murdock cried, "Sir, yes sir! Fortunately, glider planes don't have an engine, so we don't have to worry about it dying and us crashing." He gave a large grin. Face groaned from the other side of the plane.

"Yeah, until it drops out of the sky," he muttered.

"You can't fly no piece o' junk, Murdock!" BA protested, looking madder at each second, and just a little scared about the prospect of flying. "This ain't fit fo' flying!"

"Is that a lack of faith in Bessie, or in me?"

The growl he received in response told him the latter.

"Just how do you expect this plane to get up in the air?" questioned Face, sweeping a hand at the expanse of floor and planes before them.

But the twinkle in Hannibal's eye, and the grin that wouldn't stop told them all that he had a plan – and they would probably not like it. "Don't worry, I have a plan, and we're gonna take Bessie home. In a manner of speaking."

"But Hannibal," protested Face. "We can't take this plane! Are you kidding?"

Hannibal ignored him and studied the large room before them. It seemed that the Air exhibit had been converted from an old plane hangar, adding to the atmosphere. And one thing about the hangar was that the room was long enough for a take off, provided that the door was able to open.

"Face, did you notice what's outside this hangar?"

He shrugged. "Sure, Murdock and I had to sneak around that way. The hangar door connects to a long runway, and about 2 miles from that is the old control tower…" he trailed off as he suddenly realized Hannibal's reason for that large smile. "No," he moaned, knowing exactly what his C.O was thinking. "Aw, c'mon, you're not serious, we're not _really_ flying out, are we?" But he knew his arguments had gone unheard. Hannibal was on the Jazz.

So Hannibal began to issue orders: first, the planes had to be moved to the sides, so that there would be ample room for the glider to run down the runway. This would be the hardest part, the one that would take the most manpower. So he set BA and himself to this task. For Murdock, he made sure that he went over the plane, as a pre-flight inspection, making sure the ailerons, elevator, rudder, and landing gear worked. And Face he assigned to figure out how to open the door that led outside to the real runway.

They worked quickly and efficiently. Not certain if the bad guys were outside the door, they tried to move the planes as quietly as they could. Face worked his magic skills on the padlock on the hangar door, the padlock falling into his hand, the door free to open.

Within ten minutes, BA and Hannibal had managed to open up the floor, with enough space to manoeuvre the glider through, even with its extra large wings. Murdock sat in the cockpit at the controls, ready for takeoff. Hannibal jumped into the cargo space in the back, and began trying to persuade BA to get in. Meanwhile Face found, near the hangar door, a winch that would attach to the front of the glider and pull it across the floor at enough speed that could launch it into the air. He ran back over and attached it to the glider.

It was go time.

They had to be prepared now, because as soon as the hangar door opened, it would make enough noise to alert the bad guys, and make them come check on them. They planned to be out and in the air by then.

Face hit the button of the hangar door, and it started to slowly open, creaking as loud as it could. That's when he hit the button on the winch, and the cable began to retract, pulling the glider forward. He ran back to the glider, which had already started to move across the floor, and jumped in. Hannibal reached out and grabbed BA's shirt, and with Face's help, hauled him in, protesting.

"I tol' you, Hannibal! I ain't flyin!" he roared, but he was already in the glider.

"Oh, BA, we're not going to fly," quipped Murdock from the pilot's seat, his eyes locked straight ahead in concentration, but a smile on his face nonetheless. "We're going to gently glide through the starry night." He winked, and BA growled.

"Murdock," asked Face, now sitting in the co-pilot's seat, "have you ever flown a glider before?" The hangar door was still inching open, and they were getting closer and closer.

From behind them, they heard shouting and banging. It seemed the sound had alerted the bad guys. They had to move, and fast.

"Negative, muchacho," he responded. The still un-open door loomed ever closer. "But it can't be hard, can it?" Face didn't respond; he closed his eyes.

The door crashed open, and dozens of men poured in, all armed with guns. When they noticed the hangar door opening and the glider now moving at a steady pace towards the door, they started shooting.

"Alright, this is your captain H.M. Murdock speaking. We are preparing for takeoff. Please fasten your seatbelts and hold on tight," he said, using his best 'pilot' voice. "All systems…go!"

The door was coming closer…they were almost there…the bad guys were getting closer as bullets pinged off their wings…

We're not going to make it, we're not going to make it, thought Face, repeating the mantra inside his head as he stared wide-eyed at the door. It wasn't open enough. They couldn't stop now.

Then just when it seemed that it was inevitable they were going to crash, Murdock released the winch, and the glider continued on towards the door…and right on under it. Smooth tarmac was under them, and a starry night above them. And the glider, being light and working with lift, began to lift steadily into the air.

A whoop came from the cockpit, and Hannibal, in the cargo hold, grinned around the cigar he had been smoking. He glanced next to him, at the catatonic BA sitting rigidly in his seat. Ah well, he'd snap out of it when they hit the ground.

"Alright Murdock, I want you to steer this craft South East, towards the Donovan residence. If we can surprise this gang, we won't need weapons," he ordered.

"What, you mean we're going back?" asked Face, with drawing apprehension.

"Of course. We have to finish the job, and they're not getting away with thousands of dollars."

Murdock turned the plane, steadying it, keeping it level to allow it to glide on the air currents. He started singing happily: "_Fly me to the moon. Let me sing among those stars. Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars_!"

They glided gently through the night, Murdock searching and riding thermals to keep them in the air. Everyone was silent, mentally preparing themselves for the finishing touch of the job ahead, except for Murdock. You could just hear the remains of Murdock's song: "_In other words, please be true. In other words, I love you_."


End file.
